The Bravery of Being Out of Range
by Captain Zangano
Summary: Gwendal tries to outmaneuver Stoffel one last time before the Lutenberg division is sent to the front lines.


**Disclaimer:** Kyou kara Maou isn't mine.

**Author's Note:** - Loosely based on some information from the novels about the war.

Also, I imagine that Gwendal's knitting was even worse during that time. XD

Thanks to Amles80 for beta-reading this!

* * *

His hands trembled as he held the yarn. Dropped one stitch and then another, but Anissina wasn't around to critique his technique. He almost wished she were.

He frowned and concentrated harder on his knitting, furrowing his brows. His mother would tease him for being so serious, but it was necessary. He was the eldest; it was his duty to protect his younger brothers. And Gwendal took that duty as seriously as he took everything else. His seriousness and constant studying had earned him the nickname "Grumpy Gwendal". But he had never failed in protecting his brothers, until now.

Stoffel had ordered with an evil glint in his eye that the Lutenberg division was overdue for a turn at the front lines. And they needed to send some troops out to Arnold. What better chance for the half-breeds to prove their loyalty to their country by protecting it in a time of need?

And Conrad, the idiot, had agreed, volunteered to lead the men once again even. Gwendal could have strangled him. Conrad could have easily stayed with the Wincott family and taught sword techniques for the remainder of the war. Since when did his brother have such a martyr complex? Didn't he even care how his family would feel if he died?

But Gwendal was partially to blame. He didn't yet have enough leverage to directly oppose Stoffel. _If only he'd had more time_. He had failed both his brothers. Wolfram refused to look at either him or Conrad, and pretended he didn't care. But he had seen his youngest brother picking some blue flowers in the garden earlier.

Gwendal's inner musings were interrupted by a pounding on his office door.

"What?!" Gwendal bellowed.

A soldier peeked around the door. "Yo, excellency, I thought I'd find you here."

"Yozak."

Yozak sauntered over to Gwendal's desk and sat down on the edge of it. "I just stopped by to say goodbye, since I figured you'd be brooding up here."

Gwendal gave him a pained expression. "Yozak…"

Yozak scratched the back of his head. "Hey, the men appreciate everything you've done for them."

Gwendal sighed. If only he'd had more time, another week even. Then maybe he could have at least ensured that the men were properly equipped. "I'm sorry it turned out this way.

Yozak shrugged. "You can't win 'em all." Then he stood up to leave.

"Yozak!" Gwendal called out after him. "Can you…I mean…" He started hesitantly. "Conrad…"

Yozak winked at him. "Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on your brother."

After Yozak left, Gwendal stood up to look out the window. He could see the men outside preparing to leave. It wasn't supposed to end like this. He had promised Yozak that he would do all he could to protect them

His hand tightened around a knitting needle until it nearly snapped, then he roughly shoved the knotted mess of yarn into a drawer and stood up. Had he really failed so utterly? No, he decided resolutely. He hadn't lost to Stoffel, not yet anyway.

-o0o-

Günter looked at him sadly. His whole body drooped. "I tried, Gwendal," he whispered. "But it seems as though the Maou and her Reagent won't listen to reason."

Günter had every right to be upset. He had already lost so many of his students to the war.

"I understand," Gwendal replied before entering the room. That meant he had both Lord von Kleist and possibly Lord von Wincott on his side. It was unlikely that fact would sway his uncle's determination, but just maybe his mother would change her mind.

Gwendal faced his mother and uncle. "I believe we should reconsider the decision to send the Lutenberg division to the front lines."

His mother looked up sadly.

Stoffel snorted dismissively. "We can't afford to be indecisive," he said.

Gwendal's fist clenched. "They aren't ready."

Stoffel raised an eyebrow. "Oh? That's not what Lord Weller said."

"You know what I mean. Not all the men have adequate equipment. And Lord von Kleist-"

"Günter knows nothing of war." Stoffel interrupted, then stood up and paced. "We've received intelligence that an enemy force is approaching Arnold. It is essential that we attack swiftly."

"Even if our men are out-numbered and ill-equipped?"

"Sacrifices need to be made in a war." Stoffel's lip twisted cruelly. "You'll come to learn that eventually, _boy_."

His mother wouldn't meet his eyes.

He wanted to rage at Stoffel, to tell him he was wrong, that several of the better equipped Mazoku divisions could easily be sent to Arnold while they properly equipped the Lutenberg warriors. And if it came down to proving loyalty, _Stoffel_ himself ought to go. Preferably all by himself. Stoffel's actions were motivated merely by cruelty and vindictiveness. The deployment was nothing more than suicide, slaughter for those who Stoffel and his minions considered inferior.

But what difference would it make? Surely Günter had made those exact points before. Gwendal would only be playing into Stoffel's hands. His uncle would smirk at him, and comment to his mother that perhaps Gwendal was too emotionally involved to make an objective decision. That such a _young immature boy_ had no place in a war room. Perhaps he wasn't even fit to be leader of the Voltaire region.

And so Gwendal would lose any credibility he had managed to gain, and Stoffel would entrench himself more firmly in the position of reagent.

"Of course, Lord von Spitzwig," Gwendal said evenly. "Sometimes sacrifices need to be made in a war."

Stoffel nearly jumped in surprise, his eyes widened momentarily. Clearly he hadn't expected Gwendal to react so calmly.

"But I'm sure you will agree that it is important to consider all sides of an issue before finalizing a decision." Gwendal bowed slightly, turned, and walked out.

-o0o-

Gwendal went back to his knitting.

Later his mother slipped up behind him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "I'm sorry Uncle Stoffel was so mean to you, Gwennie."

"Mph," said Gwendal. He wasn't a child anymore and he didn't like being treated like one.

"But he's right, you know," she said sadly. "I was too indecisive before…"

Gwendal felt something hot and wet on the back of his uniform. He ignored it. If his mother was upset about Conrad, she certainly had the means to resolve the situation. She was the Maou after all.

"And we need to let Stoffel do what is necessary to end the war." She choked back a sob.

"Of course, mother." Gwendal patted her hand. He had never been good at comforting people. "If you will excuse me, I have some paperwork to finish.

She sniffed and turned to face him before leaving. "Oh Gwendal, you're just like your father, such a hard worker." Unshed tears glistened in her eyes.

Gwendal tried to concentrate, but he was just too tense. Gwendal sighed and picked up the misshapen monstrosity that he had managed to knit through-out the day. It was a kitty-cat, he decided.

Maybe he would give the kitty-cat to Wolfram.

Now wasn't the time, but as soon as the war was over, Gwendal would make his move. He'd slowly work himself higher and higher into a position of power until he could replace Stoffel as reagent.

-o0o-

"Thanks for the octopus, brother."

Gwendal's eye twitched. "It's a kitty-cat."


End file.
